


Against The Wall

by lilbexi



Category: Grace and Frankie (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-08 02:40:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12854976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilbexi/pseuds/lilbexi
Summary: A three part fic exploring the sexual relationship of Grace H and Frankie B





	1. The First Time

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by two recent fics by sonomaria and ellydash (check them out immediately!) which I could not get out of my head! The thought of Grace Hanson against a wall literally fucked me up. And then, AND THEN I came across a short film of the Flaunt Magazine photoshoot and Jane's messed up hair just sent me over the goddamn edge.

The first time was an almost-accident. A coincidence. A chance encounter that, thinking about it now, could have so easily never have even happened were it not for her characteristic forgetfulness and sheer inability to keep her belongings from being strewn around the house as though they had no proper designated space in the first place. It is not lost on her that a series of lost purses is what have brought her and Grace impossibly closer together over the years and now it appears that a lost pair of glasses is responsible for awakening in her something that she never knew even existed. Or maybe she did. God knows she had thought about Grace in sexual terms a lot over the years. _A lot_ , a lot. More so in the four months that they have been a couple. Obviously. But this. Good Lord, _this_ , is more than she bargained for. More than they both bargained for. They who had, in their seventies launched a vibrator company, for whom the concept of masturbation and sexual desire is core and fundamental to each and every day of their lives. 

Grace’s voice during their pitch at the incubator spins around Frankie’s head almost every hour of every day – _‘and while their bodies may have changed, their desire has not’_ – and she can’t think of truer words to describe what _this_ is. Because at the age of 73, Frankie Bergstein burns for Grace Hanson with a ferocity that her younger self would have thought near on impossible for her elderly body to feel. _But oh does she feel_. And judging from the side-long glances and sleepy sated smiles – not to mention the more vocal exclamations of pleasure – Grace feels _this_ too. 

To begin with their love making had been a mutual exchange, a shared searching, an exploration of something denied to them both for so long. It had been slow and tender and profound. At times it had been desperate, filled with the longing and passion that had been masked for far too many months, maybe even years. They had worshipped one another with soft kisses and caresses, whispered words into ears and desperate declarations against shoulders and throats. A rising and falling of bodies on a bed or a couch, a symphony of groans and sighs as they learned how to read each other’s bodies. 

And then that first time (which wasn’t their _first_ time, but was the first time Frankie had felt quite _this_ ), something shifted. And what was once desire and longing had turned into lust, something visceral and necessary. Something not just wanted _(so wanted)_ but needed on a base level.

It was late morning and Grace had left Frankie to clean up the kitchen after their late breakfast, providing clear instructions regarding the levels of tidiness she expected upon her return from getting ready for the day upstairs. Once the kitchen was in what Frankie hoped was a Grace-standard state of acceptance, she opened the paper before realising she didn’t have her glasses and, despite rummaging around the living room to try and find Grace’s pair, resigned herself to a trip back up the stairs to retrieve them. She swept into the bedroom, making a beeline for the night-table. Picked them up with a “needed my glasses” before Grace’s voice demanded her attention. 

“Did you clean the kitchen?”

When Frankie looked over to the direction of the voice, she felt her breath leave her in a rush. She felt her skin prickle with heat, felt her stomach drop right out from within her and her fucking heart stopped. Standing in front of the dresser, Grace was half-turned towards her, eyeing her expectantly. Half dressed, her jeans sat low on her narrow hips, as yet unbuttoned and unzipped, her top half adorned only in the black lace of her bra. And her hair - _fuck her hair_ \- still slightly damp and starting to curl, fell over one side of her face as she tilted her head to look at Frankie with a quizzical look.

“Frankie?” she called, louder this time and the sound of her name tripping from those lips spurned Frankie into action. Tossing her glasses onto the bed she closed the distance between them with a few strides, watching Grace’s eyes go from open and questioning to dark and knowing. Her hands had landed on Grace’s jeans, fingers in the belt-loops, and pulled her hips hard into her own even as her mouth collided messily with hers, her thumbs reaching up to glide against the soft skin of her abdomen as a moan (from either her or Grace, who knows whom?) escaped from between their lips. The momentum led them to stumble, Frankie forward and Grace backwards until Grace’s back thumped against the wall as her own hands came up to sweep through Frankie’s hair and pull her impossibly closer. 

As tongues duelled, Frankie placed a palm on Grace’s solar plexus, pushing her back further into the wall. She shifted her feet, nudging Grace’s apart slightly to that she could stand close between her thighs. Her hands had reached behind Grace, dipping beneath her jeans, grasped two handfuls of buttocks and pulled her in while her mouth slid across her jaw to the side of her throat.

“Jesus Christ, you’re fucking beautiful,” she had breathed. 

Hands still in Frankie’s hair, Grace had chuckled although the sound was muffled by undeniable arousal. She tilted her head to the right, granting Frankie more access to her neck, guiding her mouth to that spot below her ear that she knew Frankie would bite. When she didn’t disappoint Grace had cried out sharply, almost missed the trajectory of Frankie’s hands that made their way boldly to her breasts. Grace glanced down for a moment before letting her head fall back against the wall, the sight of Frankie’s hands cupping her through her bra too much to stand.

Frankie’s whole hands cupped and squeezed, the spaces between her thumbs and forefingers narrowing to trap and pull at the peaks. Her mouth followed, seemingly of its own accord, and she left open mouthed kisses on the rise of Grace’s breasts, her tongue lapping just above the lace. A strangled, “Frankie…” came from above her as she was tugged back up. Grace’s swollen lips grazing her own she had felt rather than heard the desperate “touch me…please…”.

Her nose nudged against Grace’s, then against her cheekbone, as she brought her right hand forward and slipped it down, down, down between her thighs, trapped between lace and denim. She had cupped her there, pushing forward and up, following Grace’s hips as they lifted up suddenly before settling back down onto her. Frankie’s other hand curled up and into Grace’s hair, tangling in the blonde waves before gripping and pulling to expose Grace’s throat. She had known that Grace liked this sometimes, a hair-pull or one time even a half-intentional yet stinging slap to the hip. But Frankie had never done it like this. Not while fucking her up against a wall, her jeans being tugged and pushed further and further down her hips. The sound that emerged from Grace as she did so however told her that she liked it. An almost-growl ending on a breathless “yes!” synchronised with sharp nails digging into Frankie’s back. 

That’s what had motivated Frankie to shift her wrist. To slide Grace’s underwear to the side and slide her finders into wet heat. As slick as Grace was, Frankie knew that it wasn’t enough for what was about to happen. “Don’t you dare move,” she demanded in a low whisper. Stepping away from Grace was excruciating, her legs feeling as weak as she guessed Grace’s did if the way that Grace slapped her hands on the wall either side of her was anything to go by. Pulling the draw of the side-table so hard it nearly came all the way out, Frankie grabbed the jar, unscrewed it and unceremoniously scooped out a generous amount before making her way back to Grace. Grace watched her with hooded eyes, head tilted back against the wall, the palms of her hands pressed to the wall at her sides. Her chest had heaved with want. 

Frankie had pressed back up against Grace, her fingers being helped back between her thighs with the tug of a soft but insistent hand. The sigh that left Grace’s lips as Frankie’s fingers pressed up inside her was an exaltation. It was an affirmation and a promise. It was fucking everything. 

“Tell me you want it,” Frankie pleaded, knowing what Grace wanted but needing to hear the words leave that beautiful mouth. That mouth that was so pretty but that Frankie somehow knew could talk so dirty. 

“I want it,” she had whispered back, her mouth on the side of Frankie’s neck, breathing her in. “Oh God, Frankie, I want it.”

Pulling her fingers out, her other hand again went to Grace’s hair. A sharp tug at the same as her fingers driving back in was closely followed by a stern “tell me!” The near shriek that had echoed in the room led Frankie to flash on a vision of placing her hand over Grace’s mouth, the thought alone bringing a small groan out of her. Eyes darker than Frankie had ever seen them, Grace looked directly into her and in a low voice rasped out “fuck me, Frankie”. 

And so she had. She had pushed into her over and over again. Had licked and kissed and sucked every part of her that her mouth could reach. Had pulled her forward and in with every instinctive retreat of Grace’s hips. She had fucked her harder than she had ever imagined Grace could take, harder than she ever imagined she herself could give. She licked at the sweat beading between Grace’s breasts, tasted the saltiness in the crook of her neck. And at the moment that Grace tightened around her, incoherent and panting, expletives tripping from her lips, Frankie had bitten into Grace’s shoulder so hard that it had left a mark. 

The first time fucking Grace Hanson against a wall was like nothing Frankie had ever expected. But _dear God_ , she had hoped for seconds.


	2. The Second Time

The second time was opportunity meets expediency. Not just driven by want but by necessity. Unplanned like the first time but kismet nonetheless.

They had had a light dinner on the beach, a treat from Frankie who insisted that al fresco dining under the setting sun was a sure way to connect with the universe. Grace wasn’t sure what connecting with the universe actually meant but was more than happy to indulge her lover. And laying on the checked blanket on the sand, the ocean and Frankie’s eyes seeming to be a more vivid colour than she can remember seeing them, she mused that perhaps she should connect with the universe more often. 

She watched with soft eyes as Frankie lit up a joint from where she sat cross legged to her left. Her eyes flitted across the face that had become so beloved to her, had watched the slight pout of her lips as she took a deep drag and inhaled before slowly blowing out the smoke. Grace felt that pout deep inside her somewhere and placed her right hand on her own stomach, pressing slightly as though trying to connect with the butterflies dancing there. 

Frankie’s eyes met hers and for a long moment they just looked into one another, the quiet ferocity of the waves mimicking the push and pull of their desire. Grace had lifted her left hand with her fingers extended in a silent ask for her turn of the joint. They passed it back and forth for a few minutes in silence before Frankie tilted her head and gave Grace a soft smile.

“Did you ever think we’d end up here, Grace?”

Grace returned her smile, tapping the joint so the excess ash fell to the sand. 

“You mean on the beach smoking the pot?” She asked, knowing full well that was not what Frankie meant. A crinkle to the corners of Frankie’s eyes brought another smile to her face as she continued. “Honestly, no I didn’t.” A beat. “But there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Judging by the look on Frankie’s face, that was the right answer. “Me too, sister”.

Rearranging her legs Frankie had leaned down to place a soft kiss on Grace’s mouth. Grace lifted the hand from her stomach to wind through Frankie’s hair, marvelling in the fact that she had permission to do this, to touch and feel ... _to feel_. She had denied herself feelings for so long and the realisation that Frankie had given her this gift made her heart stutter. 

Putting out the almost burned out joint in the sand, Frankie lay down next to Grace on the blanket, her head propped up on one hand while the other landed softly on Grace’s stomach. _Maybe she was chasing butterflies too_. She edged her fingers under the hem of Grace’s t-shirt, her thumb moving back and forth over the soft skin she found there as she leaned in and nuzzled her nose against Grace’s jaw just below her ear. It hadn’t taken her long to realise that this was Grace’s secret place. The place that liked to be kissed and stroked softly, that liked to be nibbled and licked...that liked to be bitten, especially in that crucial moment as she fell apart against her. 

Lifting her head she looked over Grace’s face lovingly. “Do you know how pretty you are?” she asked, sounding like she was talking more to herself than to Grace. Whereas once Grace would have scoffed, laughed off such a complement with an embarrassed tinge to her cheeks, she instead accepted it as being another of Frankie’s ways to communicate her love for her. “You make me feel pretty,” she had responded with a smile. 

Frankie placed another soft kiss to Grace’s lips before shuffling down to rest her head against her shoulder, her hand slipping from Grace’s stomach to her ribs to pull her into a hug. Grace rested one hand against Frankie’s back, her palm soothing, while her other hand again found its way into her hair. They had stayed that way for indefinite moments, surrounded by sand and sea air and the sound of the waves and basking in their love for each other. Grace had never felt so content as she had in that moment. Frankie had never felt so much at peace. 

Eventually, the sun began to dip below the horizon and a slight chill had crept into the air around them. They both tried to ignore it for as long as possible, not wanting this moment of perfection to end, until an involuntary shiver ran through Grace’s body. Frankie pulled her in tighter for a moment, ran her hand down her side as though trying to warm her as her head rose. “We should head back”. 

Grace let out a non-committal murmur, her eyes still closed as she continued to run her fingers through Frankie’s hair. “Kiss me first?” she had asked and Frankie had willingly obliged. 

Pulling away, Frankie shifted and stood, taking a moment to find her footing on the sand before extending her arms out to Grace. “Come on my beautiful land-mermaid, time to head back before we turn into pumpkins.”

Letting herself be hauled up, Grace chuckled. “I think you’re mixing up your Disney references, Frankie.”

“A princess is a princess,” she had stated, bedding at the waist and extending one arm in an elaborate bow. She delighted in Grace’s laugh, the sound like her favourite wind chimes.

They walked back to the house, fingers loosely linked together. In the kitchen Frankie stood at the island putting out the leftover dinner with her back to Grace, humming an impossible to place tune. Grace watched her from behind, a smile on her face and a tilt to her head as Frankie’s hips swayed softly to her own tune. There was a time when the leftover dinner would have been left to fester in Frankie’s tote bag until Grace gave in and put it all away herself. But recently she had been making an effort to be more mindful that she shared this space they lived in, had taken to washing a few dishes and picking up after herself. Knowing that she did just keep Grace happy made Grace smile and it seemed perfectly warranted to reward this behaviour. Sneaking up behind her Grace swept Frankie’s hair to one side, leaned down to place a soft kiss on the back of her neck as her hands landed on her trim waist. 

“You’re welcome,” Frankie had chuckled, dipping her head down to grant her access. Grace squeezed the waist she held in her hands, her tongue darting out to taste skin. Frankie turned to her, an almost mewling sound coming from her throat. Not backing up an inch, Grace leaned in to kiss her mouth once before giving her a look that Frankie had come to know all too well over the last few months. Grace’s eyes held desire, as well as the effects of the pot, as she took Frankie’s hands and placed them on the island at her sides before returning her own hands to Frankie’s waist. Leaning in again she lay kisses from the side of her mouth and down to below her jaw, lightly grazing Frankie’s neck with her lips. 

“Grace...” Frankie sighed, her body coming alive despite the quality dope in her system. Grace’s mouth returned to her own, teeth gently nibbling at Frankie’s lower lip. Frankie raised her hands, needing to hold Grace, to connect with her, to feel grounded. The instant her hands landed on Grace’s sides, Grace took them again in hers, harsher this time as she again placed them back in the island at her sides. She pressed them there beneath her own, giving her a stern look to keep them exactly where she had placed them. Frankie’s breath shuddered out of her and was swallowed as Grace kissed her so very deeply, a messy collision of lips and tongues. 

When she was sure that Frankie would keep her hands where she wanted them Grace moved her own to the rise of Frankie’s breasts. Keeping one hand firmly cupped over one breast her other hand had reached behind to sweep over Frankie backside pulling her in and clutching her there as her tongue continued its somewhat frantic exploration of Frankie’s mouth. 

Before Frankie could become accustomed to this, Grace grasped her skirt and gathered it up in her fist, pulling it up and up until it was half bunched at her waist. The feel of the back of Frankie’s thigh against her fingertips caused Grace to moan as her own hips surged forward. _God, she loved this body_. This woman, who once had caused Grace nothing but a headache, was all that she wanted to see, smell, taste. Was suddenly all that she ever wanted. Trailing her fingernails across the outside of Frankie’s thigh and round to the front she tickled up, skimming its inside as she brought her palm to cup her between her thighs. 

Frankie’s breath hitched and her kisses faltered as she concentrated on the sensation of the pulse between her legs. Grace caressed her thoroughly, pushing already damp underwear into her rhythmically, her teeth again nibbling Frankie’s lower lip. 

“Grace...” she stumbled. “The windows...”

Of the two of them Frankie had always been the exhibitionist, had been the one to forego the social convention of refraining from public indecency. Conversely, Grace had always been an insular creature, preferring to keep such moments of intimacy private and away from prying eyes. But something about that night, and potentially the pot, had wanted her to be on show. Had wanted to prove to Frankie that she was free and adventurous. Nevertheless, it was still relatively light out and their kids had an unfortunate habit of dropping by unannounced and as liberated as Grace had felt she would prefer not for her offspring to witness it.

Letting Frankie go with a nip to her chin she picked up her hands from the counter top and tugged her backwards. Keeping their bodies close she stepped back as Frankie stepped forward, pulling Frankie arms around her so her hands could settle on Grace’s lower back. Turning the corner to the narrow hallway leading to the stairs Grace gave her a devilish grin, and Frankie recognised the mischief in her eyes. Suddenly Frankie was spun on her heels and almost before she could find her footing her back was pressed against the wall. 

Her hands, both this time, again pulled Frankie’s skirt up to her waist, and Frankie recognised this Grace. Determined. Strong. Tenacious. She knew what she wanted and nothing was going to get in the way of her getting it. And Frankie was more than happy to give it. A soft slim hand again pressed against Frankie’s most intimate place while her teeth and tongue worshiped her neck and shoulders. Frankie, usually such a giving lover, was so overtaken by her desire that all she could do was let it happen. To tip her head back against the wall and let the sensations flow through her. White hot heat coursed through her veins like electricity.

Grace’s fingertips slid up then back down to centre, this time inside her underwear and knowing that she was feeling nothing but heat and moisture made Frankie groan and her breasts ache. 

“God, I love the feel of you” Grace breathed into Frankie’s ear. Then “I can smell you.”

Any retort Frankie could have made was cut short by two slender fingers entering her gently but quickly, her words reduced to a high-pitched moan. They both knew that they couldn’t do it this way, not unless they separated to collect the jar from the fridge. And separating right now was unimaginable. Her fingers on Grace’s wrist Frankie pressed her cheek to Grace’s. “Outside...my clitoris,” she whispered. Grace withdrew, using what moisture she had collected to swipe up to the tiny organ. Frankie’s clitoris was just like her, unabashed and unapologetic, pulsing and swollen underneath Grace’s fingertips. 

Grace had laced the fingers of her free hand through Frankie’s hair, tilting her head to kiss her thoroughly as her fingers pressed and circled, quickening in time with Frankie’s breaths which were steadily speeding up. Frankie mouth slid from Grace’s, no longer able to keep up, needing just to breathe in this moment. Her thighs tensing, the grip on Grace’s back tightening, the staccato of moans leaving her lips...Grace knew she was there and she pressed harder and span faster, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the hollow of Frankie’s throat, letting her tongue dart out to taste her there.

“Ahh...Grace!” The loudest whisper she had ever heard as she had tilted her head back to watch Frankie face as she came, biting her own lip at the sheer beauty of it. Her fingers slowed in speed but maintained their pressure. She knew that Frankie liked to be touched even after her orgasm, that she needed to be brought down slowly in the same way she was sent up. Her moans and wriggling hips telling her she was doing it just right until the tell-tale retreat of her hips and an inhalation let her know it was too much. Grace’s fingers slid away, wrapped around a soft thigh to grasp it lovingly before running her thumb back and forth in a soothing motion.

A couple of breaths and Frankie’s eyes opened and landed on Grace’s, the softest smile lighting up her face. “Wow.” She breathed. “That was...” she shook her head slightly. “Just wow.” 

“You’re so beautiful, Frankie. I love watching you come.” Grace had smiled, a thumb tracing the curve of Frankie’s mouth. 

Frankie knew Grace well enough to know that this kind of dirty talk tended to fall from her lips only when she was either full of vodka or full of lust. And she had been cutting down on the vodka lately, much to Frankie’s relief. She also knew that on occasions when Grace smoked pot her lust appeared to ratchet up a notch, leading her to freely verbalise her needs. Frankie hadn’t needed it to be verbalised on this occasion however, had seen it clear as day in those blue eyes. Grace took a step back, half turned as though to make her way back to the kitchen. Frankie’s hand shot out to grasp her wrist and she returned the earlier gesture, quickly turning them both and pushing Grace back into the wall, delighting in the surprised gasp that came from her mouth. 

“Where do you think you’re going, lady? I’m not finished with you yet.” The low murmur had darkened Grace’s eyes further as her fingers closed the small space between them to brush lightly against Frankie’s. 

“Oh really?” She had been aiming for coy but it came out more like yearning. 

Taking hold of Grace’s wrists, Frankie raised them above her head, holding them against the wall as she mimicked Grace’s earlier stern look. _Keep them where I put them_. Leaning in she ran the tip of her nose down Grace’s neck, making a show of breathing her in, keeping her touch light enough that Grace had groaned in frustration. Suddenly she grasped the hem of Grace’s T-shirt and swiftly lifted it up and over her head and arms, carelessly tossing it to the floor. As soon as the fabric was out the way, Frankie had moved in to kiss Grace, unable and unwilling to tease her any more. She allowed Grace’s arms to come down and drape over her shoulders, pulling her in further to the kiss. Her hands ran up Grace’s bare back from hips to shoulders, marvelling at how supple she still is. Surely women of their age should not be this goddamn sexy. But Grace is and Frankie couldn’t help but want to put her mouth over every inch of skin in front of her. Her hands shifted down and somewhat clumsily sought out the waistline of Grace’s jeans, swiftly undoing the button and almost yanking at the zipper, causing Grace to let out another gasp. Her lips travelling down Grace’s throat, she pushed at the jeans, the tight fit making her have to tug and pull to get them down over her hips, Grace leaning her back against the wall while her hips were tipped forward. 

Frankie could see Grace’s nipples pushing against the lace of her bra and she couldn’t resist bending down to take one lacy peak into the mouth, the flat of her tongue roughly dragging over the little nub. “GOD! Frankie!” Grace called out, her head falling back to the wall with a dull thud, her arms tightening around her. Moving her mouth up to kiss her cleavage, Frankie reached up to again take Grace’s hands in hers and pushed the clenched fists down to Grace’s sides. She peered into Grace’s face, the heaving of her chest in her peripheral vision. Holding her gaze, she felt her stomach clench as an idea formed in her mind. She watched as Grace’s brow creased, obviously having seen the cogs turning.

“Turn around.”

“Oh God,” Grace had whimpered, her eyes widening and throat swallowing. 

Slowly… _so fucking slowly_ , Grace had turned, keeping her eyes on Frankie until the last moment, peering back over her shoulder at her, mused hair falling into her eyes. Frankie could barely take her eyes off her. She stepped in closer, pressing against the length of her as her hands ran gently down Grace’s back. Grace had leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes at the soft caress. But then Frankie took hold of her jeans and roughly tugged them down further, pulling Grace’s backside towards her and away from the wall in the process, and Grace had let out a surprised “OH!” Frankie’s right hand found its way between Grace’s thighs from behind, sighing at what she felt there. 

“God, you’re wet,” she whispered, leaning forward to place her mouth on Grace’s left shoulder blade. Leaving wet kisses there she worked her hand back and forth, eyes closed and fully concentrated on the task. She knew that Grace liked penetration, that she liked to be fucked that way, that it made her have powerful internal orgasms. But again, they were in the hallway and the lube was in the fridge and Frankie was most certainly not going to stop this now, for however brief a reprieve. Pulling her hand back she lifted it to her mouth and put two fingers inside, wetting them further and moaning at the taste of Grace on her tongue. 

Grace had seen this out of the corner of her eye and it made her knees dip, her hands scrabbling at the wall to keep upright. “Fucking hell, Frankie,” she breathed. 

Frankie grinned against Grace’s back and slid her hand back between her thighs, Grace’s hips pushing back on first contact. She ran her fingers through her folds once, twice, and then hovered at her entrance. Grace had stopped breathing in anticipation, her whole body gone still. Frankie’s left hand came up to Grace’s right cheek and turned her face towards her own. As she opened her mouth against her jawline, she pushed inside steadily. Grace’s breath seemed to be pushed out of her, followed by low groan and yet another backward push of her hips. “Fuck…Fuck, Frankie.”

“What’s that?” she murmured against her jaw. “You want me to fuck you?”

“God yes, please…”

Grace Hanson did not beg and so Frankie had known how desperately turned on she must have been. She withdrew her fingers and pushed back in, her own hips mimicking the motion. _God, she was fucking Grace from behind_. She couldn’t recall ever feeling so damn powerful in her life. With every push forward of Frankie’s fingers, Grace’s hips had pushed back and they quickly established a rhythm, one that by necessity soon quickened, becoming increasingly vigorous, almost frantic. Grace’s breath came out in short puffs of air, each exhalation bringing with it a moan that heightened in volume and pitch with each thrust. Her hands slapped against the wall in front of her as Frankie felt her walls tightening, and she planted her mouth right on that magic spot on Grace’s neck and bit down. A wordless cry erupted from Grace as she hips pushed back, back, back, nails clutching at the wall as she circled her hips over and over to keep it “right there, right there, oh God Frankie, right there!” Frankie rode out her orgasm with her, kissing that spot on her neck so tenderly as though to atone for the bite she had just inflicted. 

Grace’s hips slowed in increments, from grinding to circling to one last push back against Frankie’s thighs as what felt her last ever breath left her body. Frankie held her in the stillness that followed, carefully removing her fingers as Grace rested her forehead against the wall, rolling it left to right once. 

“Jesus…”

“He had nothing to do with that,” Frankie had said quietly with a smile, feeling what was either a chuckle or an aftershock rumble through Grace’s body. 

Frankie’s hand, fingers still wet, slid round front and cupped Grace, wanting to cherish and hold this sacred part of her. Grace, her body still singing sucked in a breath between clenched teeth. Her own right hand fell on top on Frankie’s, her conscious intention to pull it away, but instead she pulled it in further and hummed low in her throat. 

“Jesus Christ, Grace. Are you fucking kidding me?”

She didn’t answer with words, but instead pushed at the hand between her thighs once more, circling her hips experimentally with a sigh. Her head fell back against Frankie’s shoulder, her left hand pushing them back from the wall a step. Picking up Frankie’s left hand in hers she brought it up to place it on her right breast, pushing on Frankie’s hand to increase the pressure. Frankie’s mouth couldn’t seem to stop kissing her slender neck as she took step after step backwards, Grace securely in her arms. The other side of the hallway landed against Frankie’s back and Grace leaned back into her, her right hand manoeuvring Frankie’s fingers to exactly where she wanted them. 

Frankie circled the pulsing clitoris with her fingertips while the other hand pulled at the lace covering Grace’s breast to expose the rosy peak. Taking a nipple between her finger and thumb and pinched lightly, Grace’s fingers on hers between her thighs forcing her to speed up her movements. Nothing but the sound of breathing as they both circled and circled, Grace’s fingers on top of Frankie’s, her free hand coming back over her shoulder to wind into Frankie’s hair and pull her closer. 

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, so quietly that Frankie might have imagined it. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t…ah yes!”

Frankie could have sworn she felt every single cell of Grace’s body convulse and spasm, and Grace … Grace was flying, all the feeling in her body narrowed and centred to the bundle of nerves between her thighs. 

Letting out one last shuddering breath, her right hand fell away from Frankie’s, her left arm dropping slightly from Frankie’s hair as all the energy left her in a rush. Frankie held Grace tightly against her, certain that if she let go she would fall in a puddle to the floor, utterly wrecked and boneless. A small hitch of breath, a splash of moisture on her forearm prompted her to bring her left hand to Grace’s chin and gently turn her head to face her. Her brown creased in concern, a sharp pang of terror shooting through her, before Grace’s face broke into the most beautiful smile Frankie had ever seen. 

There may have been tears falling down her cheeks, but Grace Hanson was the happiest woman alive.


End file.
